Tommy 1337

Dahl, your death was a tragedy,
But I'm almost glad you didn't see
The rising of the new way to
Make your kids' minds melt into goo.
I talk, of course, lest we forget
Of the abhorrent INTERNET.
None of us could contain our joy
When this delightful little toy
Made little Tommy shut his trap
(Much quicker than a lunchtime nap)
And seemed, at first, to educate
Rather than brain-assimilate.
But years rolled on and our new friend
Became the source of ghastly trends
And Tommy, now at age thirteen,
Became rather absurdly keen
On women – half cat, with huge breasts,
And arguments on which was best:
The Potter books or sparkly guys
(Those weird gay vampires in disguise).
The vulgar porn and RP games
All make TV look rather tame.
Over 9,000 pedo-cocks,
And fan girls milling 'round in flocks,
Dramatica and DeviantArt
Will slowly blacken any heart
And dull your eyes, and dull your brain
Until you'll never speak again
Save in a strained and beastly growl
As we eliminate the vowel.
So parents, update your attack!
Leave the TV, stop looking back
And focus on the evil glare
Of the screen next to your office chair
Save Tommy! Before he becomes
Another 133t-ish, flabby bum.